Alice at Lunch Hour
by Rabbit Jane White
Summary: What if the Mad Tea Party took place in a high school cafeteria? This is a short one-shot/drabble of a modern re imagining of the Tea Party.


Alice scanned the room and a dissatisfied frown flickered across her forehead. Finding an open seat in the school's cafeteria was usually a gruesome competition, and it looked like it was her turn to be the loser. In vain her eyes sought out her usual friend group. One girl caught Alice's betrayed stare, gave an apologetic shrug of her shoulders, and turned back to her fellow traitors.

"Fine," Alice muttered and cast an eye around the room again. The prospects weren't very promising. Nerd table: full. Too bad; heated star trek debates were one of her favourite things.  
Emo table: Wait… or is it Goth?... full. No harm there. Alice didn't think excessive eye-liner and angst were contagious, but better safe than sorry.  
Jock table: one seat, between a two beefy football players, both caught up in a chugging competition. Prepster table: full.  
Artsy-Fartsy table: cramped into the corner of the room and nearly empty. Three students clustered at the end, though they were surrounded by bags of chips, granola bars, and cans of pop on all sides.

Alice chewed her lip in indecision. An explosion of cheering and laughter erupted from the Jock table, drawing her attention. One of the guys, large and rosy cheeked, had clearly just won the competition, and was spraying cola all over the table in triumph, much to the delight of his friends. The decision was suddenly much easier for Alice, and she quickly scooted to the table at the end of the room.

Flopping down in a seat, Alice started rummaging through her bag, pulling out an apple and sandwich, when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise. She snuck a glance to the end of the table and encountered three pairs of eyes staring her down.

"There's no room!" cried a red-headed boy. He glared at her over the top of a roast beef sandwich. The boy beside him nervously played with the buttons of his Victorian jacket and stared at Alice with wide eyes. He had long silver-blonde hair carelessly braided and thrown over his shoulder. The red head delivered a sharp jab into his side, and he quickly nodded his head in agreement. "There really is no room!"

Alice stared at them blankly, then back at the empty table. "But there's no one else here," She raised an eyebrow and looked at the third person at the table for help; a black haired girl who blinked sleepily up at Alice, then back to her drawing board. No help coming from there.

"I know that," the red head continued, rolling his eyes, "But there's no room." The boy in the strange cloak continued to nod.

"Don't be stupid," Alice crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the red head. She pointed to the scattered food, "Your junk only covers half of the table. Just give me space and let me be." Alice crunched her apple loudly to articulate the point.

The red head inhaled sharply in protest, then evidently changed his mind. "Write that down," he muttered to the other boy, who already had a notebook out and was frantically scratching notes down. "Just give me room and let me be," he repeated quietly. Suddenly quite pleased with himself, the red head grabbed a Cheetos bag and opened it, releasing a puff of cheese powder.

"What are you doing?" Despite her annoyance, Alice found herself scooting closer to the trio to see what was written.

The boy-in-the-coat gasped in horror as she drew closer and quickly snatched the book protectively to his chest. "Excuse me!" he grumbled.

The red head leaned over the black-haired girl, who now appeared to be taking a nap on top of her sketch pad, and grabbed the notebook out of the other boy's hands. His fingers left cheesy smears on the pages. "Just the line we were looking for," he cried triumphantly.

"I still don't understand," Alice muttered

"It does fit the chorus just right," The boy in the coat mused.

Alice looked from one boy to the other, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You're writing it into a song."

"Obviously we wrote it into a song," the red head sneered, reaching for a can of soda. "We've been looking for something to follow up our last single."

"I don't –"

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat," the boy in the coat had slowly rose from his seat and deliberately climbed onto the table top, "How I wonder what you're at. Up above the world so high, like a tea tray in the sky,"

"Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle," finished the girl, smiling softly at her sketch.

All three of them looked expectantly at Alice, who realized just a beat late that she was expected to applaud. She clapped politely and the red head gulped the soda in satisfaction

"Broke records, it did," the red head laughed.

"Really?" Alice had a hard time cloaking the shock in her voice. "What kind of records?"

The red-head once again rolled his eye. "RECORDS!" he repeated. He held up his fingers and started counting them off, "library records, phone records, vinyl records, school records—"

"Your hair wants cutting," the other boy cut in, frowning at Alice's head. The red-head, not noticing that he had been interrupted, kept counting.

"How would a song—wait what?" Alice sputtered. "We were just talking about—what do you mean?" She was doing her best, but she felt the dull throb of a headache as she tried to follow the conversation

"I mean what I say," the boy shrugged carelessly and toyed with the end of his braid.

"Even if you say what you mean, it doesn't mean it should be said!"

"He didn't say he says what he means, he said he means what he says," the girl glanced up dreamily to Alice.

Alice blinked, then frowned. "But they're the same thing!"

"Oh no they aren't," insisted the red head, who was once more part of the conversation. "That's like saying 'I see what I eat' is the same as 'I eat what I see', which wouldn't be true at all," his arm snaked out to snatch a granola bar near Alice.

"Not true for most of us," she mumbled.

The red head snapped his head up. "What was that?"

"Nothing." Alice frowned at the red head. "At least nothing you'd want to write into one of your stupid songs."

The red head threw his head back and laughed. "Now who's being rude?"

"I have an idea," the silver-haired boy declared, "Let's change the subject. Have you seen Ashley lately Nat?"

Alice speared a straw through the top of a juice box and watched with mild interest as the red-head's face heated to match the colour of his hair. He glowered at his friend. "Why do you always bring that up? Next subject."

"You get so wound up. It's funny." The girl noted blandly. The silver-haired boy nodded and chuckled and the red-head – Nat was his name?—opened a box of Smarties with more force than necessary.

"I think you should take her interest as a compliment," continued the girl dreamily. "Ashley is basically the Queen of the school."

Queen—Alice nearly choked on her juice. Surely not same Ashley: a manicured blonde that habitually prowled the halls, dripping in designer fashion and adoring gazes. Gasping for breath, she wheezed, "You and Ashley? As in… Ashley?"

"Next subject," Nat said again, nostrils flared. Desperately, he cast his eye around the table. "Violet, tell us one of your stories."

The girl with raven hair yawned. "You know all of my stories." Violet's eyelids sank and she slumped onto the table, apparently tired of the conversation.

The silver-haired boy poked her shoulder and ruffled her messy dark hair. "We know them all, but she doesn't," he insisted. He pointed to Alice grandly.

"Fine." Sitting up, Violet adopted a far off look, her misty eyes unfocused into empty space. Alice felt like she was in preschool again, but at this point she had accepted the bizarreness of the situation. Nat, who had been coiled as tightly as a spring, started to relax as Violet began her tale. "Once upon a time there was boy…"

"Wrong," Nat whispered to Alice flatly. "There are boys at every time ever, not just once."

"Would you just shut up and listen please?" Alice whispered back.

Violet ignored them and kept on. "The boy loved Words. He spent all of his spare time learning how to use Words. He wrote Words, drew Words, played Words, wove Words, and sold Words. He loved Words so much that Words started to love him back." Violet trailed off, lost in her own story telling.

There was a long pause of silence before anyone said anything. "Is that it?" the silver-haired boy asked hesitantly.

"I am making this up as I go," Violet sighed. "Give me a second."

After another long pause of the silver-haired boy playing with his coat buttons while Violet continued to stare off into space, Nat out a huff of indignation. "So that's it then. Really Violet, not one of your best."

Violet glared at Nat, then resumed her story telling, although this time she focused sharply on the chip bag infront of her. "Words loved him so much that one day they arranged themselves in a way that anyone who heard them would also fall in love with the boy. One day, the Queen was passing by as the boy was reciting those words in a song, and she fell instantly in love with him," Violet smirked and looked up at Nat. "'Twinkle, twinkle, little bat-,'"

Nathaniel jumped up from his seat, red faced and angry. "I said we were changing the subject!"

"How I wonder what you're at," the silver-haired boy laughed gaily. "Finish the story Vi!"

Nat looked desperately at Alice, who chuckled but looked back to Violet.

"The Queen heard the boy sing these words and fell instantly in love with him! A Queen of Hearts! She commanded that they wed, but the poor boy felt that he his only true love was Words. He ran away from the Queen, and she has been chasing him ever since," Violet finished and blinked her once-again sleepy eyes at the enraged Nathaniel.

It was a strange story, Alice thought, but nothing to get angry over. She watched as Nathaniel sat down again and fumed at Violet, who was now busy rebraiding the silver-haired boy's hair. "It was a nice story," Alice said politely, "but what does it mean?"

The silver-haired boy smiled knowingly, Violet ignored her, and Nathaniel started muttering

"Nathaniel!" a sing song voice rang out through the cafeteria.

"No!" Nathaniel snarled. He wildly seized the other boy sleeve and dragged him from his seat. "Hide me!"

Alice sat in stunned surprise as the two boys instantly melted into the crowd of students she sensed the approach of someone in her peripheries. Turning in her seat, she and Violet watched as a lithe blonde girl approached the table. Alice instantly recognized her, just like anyone else at Rookwood High would. It was Ashely.

Ashley stopped and looked back and forth between Violet—who had gone back to ignoring the world and burying her nose in her sketch pad—and Alice, who was clutching a juice box in an iron grip. "Where'd he go?" She demanded, the sweet quality of her voice completely gone.

Alice gaped for one second, then responded blankly, "What?"

"Nathaniel! He was just here, I swear," Ashley frowned at Alice.

"I—" Alice shot a look at Violet, who gave a slight shake of her head. "I don't think he was…"

"Whatever," Ashley turned and stalked off. "Have fun with your new friends Alice."

Alice let out her breath, unaware that she had been holding it in. Now was a good a time as any to leave, she thought to herself. Grabbing her bag, Alice had already turned to head out of the cafeteria when she felt a light hand on her shoulder. Turning back, she was faced with Violet, who had silently left her seat and was now beside Alice. "You'll come again tomorrow, right?" she asked, her voice dreamy.

Alice cocked her head in confusion, "I hadn't really thought about it."

Violet grinned shyly. "Well you should. We all like you."

Alice couldn't help but laugh. "Even if I sat when there was no room?"

"You sat anyways," Violet collected her bag and stuffed her drawing pencils inside a side pocket. "which was nice. And you mean what you say, which is very nice. And you like my stories, which is probably the nicest. See you tomorrow," she patted Alice on the shoulder and floated out of the room, leaving Alice alone at the table full of food wrappers.


End file.
